


White scarves

by RositaLG



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Surrender fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7875706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RositaLG/pseuds/RositaLG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>In my head, this takes place after Marked for Murder, instead of Blood on the Wheel. I liked the idea of a white scarf being the same catalyst for a different reaction. In reality, it could fit just about anywhere. This is a rare story posted in one sitting so no waiting! Happy reading!</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this takes place after Marked for Murder, instead of Blood on the Wheel. I liked the idea of a white scarf being the same catalyst for a different reaction. In reality, it could fit just about anywhere. This is a rare story posted in one sitting so no waiting! Happy reading!

 

It had been her scarf, or the remnants of it, that had been too much to bear. Jack had seen the white silk lying in the mud, abandoned and torn, and he had immediately turned around and vomited in the grass. His stomach actually recoiled at the idea that she was somewhere in the same condition, her dove pale skin dirty and bloody in the moonlight.

“Jack!” Mac’s voice rang out as she appeared on the scene. “Where is she? I can help, I...”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He said as he found the strength to hold her back. “It’s a man. She got a shot off.” He said, finding hope in the .38 caliber hole in the man’s chest. “She’s not here, which is a good thing, because that means she’s probably still alive.”

“Proba...?” Mac looked aghast, unable to finish the word as she spotted her friend’s infamous golden pistol lying abandoned next to the body. Her expression turned to stone and he wasn't sure if it was in rage or determination. 

“We will find her.” Jack promised. “We will find her and bring her home, no matter what.”

Mac nodded and they both pretended not to notice the certain condition attached to his promise.

OOOOO

Phryne woke up slowly, her face pressed against a cool metal floor. She could already feel that her face was bruised and swollen, and she was more than certain she had a concussion. She sat up slowly and found herself in a makeshift prison cell, really more of an over-sized cage.

She listened carefully for any noise that might give her a hint of where she was.

Silence.

She was alone, although that did little to alleviate her fears.

She seemed to be on dry land, which was an improvement from her last kidnapping experience. At least she could remove easily transported off the list. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she took in a warehouse and more boxes than she could count but her vision was too blurred to make out any of the labels. 

A car’s headlights suddenly flashed through a window and she managed to glimpse the giant door to her left in the illumination. She was in a hangar.

“Damn.” She murmured under her breath, as ‘easily transported’ went back on the list. She was reaching for something to jimmy the cage’s lock open when yelling broke out outside the hangar.

“Go, go, go, go!”

An airplane roared to life, and Phryne instinctively went into a defensive position. She could barely stand, but she put her hands up anyway. 

No one ever came in.

The airplane took off and left her in silence again. 

Did they leave her here on purpose?

Did they even know she was inside?

Was their car still outside?

She began working away on the cage again and finally broke the lock open. 

“Thank you, Baron.” She murmured to herself as she crept across the hangar to glance out the window. 

No one was visible in the car, or surrounding it. She took a risk and tried the hangar door. It was locked from the outside. She felt around the room until she found a crowbar for opening boxes along the wall and she grinned. She stood a semi-chance of making a getaway now. She limped over to the door and broke the window out and waited for someone to notice. 

Silence reigned.

She pushed and pulled her way up to the window pane, ignoring the sharp slice of pain that jolted through her as her hands found some broken glass.

She fell to the pavement with a thud and her entire body reverberated with pain as her head throbbed in reluctance. 

She fought the urge to vomit as she staggered to her feet. She made it to the car and clung to it in a desperate attempt to stop the world from spinning. The keys were still in the ignition and once she had it up and running, she sped off down the road, totally unsure of where she was going, but wanting to get there fast.

OOOOO

Jack was driving faster than he had ever driven before. Collins looked positively nauseated in the passenger seat but he gamely held on tight and kept his mouth shut. Jack made a mental note to thank him for that when this was all over.

“The hangar should be on the right, sir.”

“I see it.” Jack confirmed in the distance, just as a car went speeding past them in the other direction. 

“Sir, was that...? Miss Fisher, sir!”

In a feat of driving skills that he didn’t realize he possessed, Jack slammed on the brakes and turned around simultaneously. Once he straightened out, he realized she had already stopped her car.

Collins was running to her side before Jack could let go of the wheel.

She was alive.

And driving poorly.

The rush of relief he felt at those facts subsided as he got close enough to see her injuries. The entire side of her face was purple and swollen, she was bleeding from her skull and her dress and hands were covered in blood.

“I’m sorry. Was I speeding, Constable?” She croaked, clearly trying to be braver than she was. 

“Collins, get Miss Fisher to a hospital and call Dr. Macmillan at once. I’m going to…”

“They aren't there.” She said, interrupting him. “You can wait for...for backup.”

“Miss Fisher, your hands.” Collins said as he wrapped a handkerchief around the one that was bleeding the most.

“Broke a window.” She murmured. “Jack? I’m...” She passed out before he could respond.  

“Hospital. Now.” Jack said as he lifted her gently out of the car and carried her to his own. He sat in the backseat with her head in his lap as Collins rushed back into the city. 


	2. Chapter 2

Mac appeared in the hall and Jack stood up with the respect normally reserved for a four star general.

“She’s going to be here a while, at least until we can determine the extent of her head injury, but she'll live.”

“Can I speak with her?” Jack asked.

“Not yet. Give it a few hours, her memories won't be any good now anyway.”

“Did she say anything?” Jack asked, hating to ask, but needing to know.

“She told me to tell you that you are no longer allowed to judge her driving. You were driving quite recklessly yourself.” Mac grinned.

Jack rolled his eyes but blushed a little at the truthful accusation.

“Thank you.” Mac said as she squeezed his arm, knowing precisely why he did it.

He nodded once and Mac disappeared through the doors of the hospital once again.

Jack glanced down and realized he was still covered in her blood. The iron scent tasted all too familiar (blood was a daily hazard for him) but his hands began to shake as he let himself recall her lying across his lap, her life literally spilling out as he tried desperately to keep it inside her. 

He shook his head, pulling himself out of his dark thoughts. With a glance at the clock, he gave himself two hours to go home, clean up, and return. He wanted to be the first person she saw when they opened her door. 

OOOOO 

“Detective Inspector?” A nurse shook his shoulder gently and he was conscious instantly. 

“Yes?” 

“You can see her now.” 

“Thank you.” He said, wiping his eyes quickly. He followed the nurse down the hall and through the previously forbidden doors. She stopped just outside of her room and let him enter alone. 

Phryne’s room was as white and sterile as he had ever seen. The only color came from her purple and scarlet injuries and Jack felt his stomach turn once more at the memory of that white scarf.

“Jack,” she smiled weakly, “you’re here.”

“I am.” He smiled back, forcing himself to fake it for her sake. There was a small pharmacy set up on her bedside table letting Jack know just how serious her injuries were.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he sat down next to her bed.

“Nothing.” She waved weakly with her hand. “Morphine is great, Jack. Truly. Great.” She emphasized each word. 

“I’ll bet.” He smiled at her loopy answer, but her smile turned to tears almost instantly. 

“I don't know what happened.” She said, feeling guilty for her lack of knowledge. His heart broke at her disappointment.

“Shhh. That’s not important now.” He consoled her, reaching out carefully for her bandaged hand.

“It is. It is because they got away and you need to find them.”

“We will. Together. I’m not going to solve a case without you. It can wait until you’re ready.” He lied. She didn't need to know that he would spend every waking minute on this case until it was resolved to his liking.

“They hit me over the back of the head. I never saw them. I think there had to have been at least two, maybe three.” 

He wanted to tell her to stop, but he was so desperate for any information, he let her keep going.

“When I woke up, there was a car and then the plane took off. They left the car. They weren't coming back. You scared them away.”

She left out the cage that they had stuck her in. Jack had already visited it twice, once in person and once in a nightmare.

“Am I under arrest for stealing the car?” She asked so out of the blue that Jack did a double take.

“No. I know a very understanding detective who dropped those charges.” He teased.

“Oh.” She said, sincerely relieved. “That’s good.”

“You should get some sleep now.” He suggested as he watched her eyelids flutter in a vain attempt to stay awake.

“Mmmm.” She responded, doing just that.

He let go of her hand, leaned back into his chair, and sighed. 

He was going to be here awhile.

OOOOO

“What in God's name are you doing?” Jack asked as he came around the corner and saw her struggling to raise herself out of bed. 

“The blasted mirror is too far away to get a proper look at my head.” She yearned again to look into the mirror.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself. Let me help you.” Jack sighed.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and she stood up, her arms clinging to him for stability as the room spun just a little. He kept his hands on her waist as she stood in front of him, finally seeing herself for the first time.

“Oh my…” She whispered as she moved her head slowly, taking in her stitches that appeared just above and behind her right ear. “I’m going to need some more powder.” She said as she brushed her fingers over the purple swelling stretching over her cheek bone.

“You’ll be back to normal in no time.” He assured her from his corner in the mirror.

“What did they hit me over the head with?”

“A lead pipe.” He said. “Which, I know from experience, does the trick once, but this...” He paused, unable to find adequate words to describe it, and Phryne realized she wasn’t the only one harmed by these injuries. She had found her footing a while ago, but Jack’s hands were still tightly cupping her waist, which led her to believe that he was holding her more for his sake than for hers. 

“Well, I put up more of a fight than you did.” She bragged, trying to lighten the mood.

“If you were any less hard-headed, you would be dead by now.” He countered darkly as he spun her around to return her to her bed.

“Remember that the next time you call me stubborn.” She poked him in the chest. 

“I will.” He promised quietly as he stared into her eyes. He had once confessed that seeing her killed would be the death of him. He had to have been traumatized by this experience, but here he stood anyway, holding her up, teasing her, helping her break hospital protocol... She had more than half a notion to kiss him, but he was already slowly moving her towards the bed.

“When I get out of here, I’m going to buy you dinner.” She said, before taking one last look at her injuries in the mirror. “Or maybe a quiet night in?” She muttered, changing her mind. 

“When you're  _ ready _ ,” Jack emphasized, “I think that would be a nice way to celebrate your recovery.”

OOOOO 

As her restlessness grew, so did her comments about making up for lost time. It worried the hell out of Jack, who knew better than to think that his opinions on the matter would slow her down at all. Still, he could sleep a little better after delivering today’s good news.

“Jack Robinson, you are a sight for sore eyes. Did you hear the good news? I get to go home tomorrow.” Jack smiled at her excitement, unable to resist sharing in her joy.

“I have some good news as well, Miss Fisher. Police caught our suspects trying to illegally board a ship in Sydney. They’ve confessed to your kidnapping.” 

Phryne’s smile fell and Jack understood her reluctance to celebrate. No one who matters, or has any loyalty, talks that easily.

“So, they were just hired thugs after all.” She commented.

“I will sleep better all the same. For now, anyway.” He added with a knowing grin. “You are being unleashed onto society tomorrow?” He changed the subject in a poor attempt to cheer her up. She turned her attention back to him.

“That leaves you with what, 12 hours of well-deserved calm, Inspector?” She countered.

“Well, if there is anything I can do, you'll let me know?” He made sure the offer was clear. 

“I will be fine. Cec and Bert are picking me up. Mr. Butler will be hovering. Dot has even offered to come back temporarily as my nurse.” She paused. “In fact, I may need you to stage a kidnapping from my own house after a bit.”

“They love you.” He reminded her. 

“Well, they would never talk to the police.” She confirmed haughtily.

“And in this one case, I am willing to overlook that fact.” Jack said as he picked up his hat. “Good day, Miss Fisher.” 

“Jack.” She nodded in return. 


	3. Chapter 3

Phryne was bored.

She had caught up on every newspaper, solved 2 police cases just from the printed reports, phoned Jack to tell him her opinions, listened to him remind her that they weren't his cases either (although she knew he would still pass on the information), illegally paced around her bedroom while no one was looking, figured out six ways to hide the remnants of her wound using hats and scarves, and picked out corresponding outfits and it was only 4pm.

When she couldn’t take it anymore, she went downstairs.

“Miss, you’re not supposed to be down here.” Mr. Butler attempted to scold her. 

“I can sit and watch you work as easily as I can sit and watch the paint dry upstairs.” She defended. 

“Some tea?” He offered, knowing he had done his part.

“That would be lovely, thank you.” She smiled as she spent the rest of her evening watching Mr. Butler work.

OOOOO 

Jack was awoken by the incessant ringing of a telephone. It took him a few minutes to find his way down the hall to answer it.

“ ‘ello?” He croaked. 

“Oh, I woke you.” Phryne sighed. “I’m so sorry, go back to sleep.”

“No, no. It’s fine.” He promised, sobering up at just the sound of her voice. “What can I do for you, Miss Fisher?” 

“I feel foolish.” She sighed, unsure if she should continue. Jack waited her out. “I couldn’t sleep, I just thought...but I didn't realize the time.”

“Bad dreams?” He asked.

“No, I'm just...I’m too rested. I can’t relax enough to sleep.”

Jack heard the truth through her excuse. He had experienced enough trauma in his lifetime to know the symptoms.

“Ah. Hyperaware when the lights go out?” 

“Yes. How did you know?” 

“I know.” He promised and the line fell silent for a moment as she contemplated his confession. “So what did you do on your first day of freedom?” He asked, hoping to preoccupy her long enough to wind her down.

“Jack…” She began, sounding guilty at having forced his chivalry at such a late hour. 

“I don’t believe so. Unless there’s another Jack I’m not aware of, and if so, I don’t need the details.” She chuckled in surprise at his unfiltered joke.

As they talked about their day, and swapped boring stories of paperwork mishaps and how many apples Mr. Butler puts in his pie, Jack couldn’t help but be amazed at how enthralled he was when she spoke. If anyone else had tried to discuss these things with him, he’d be trying to stab himself in the eye with the letter opener sitting next to his phone. Instead, here he sat at the wee hours of the morning, more than entertained.

“I really am going to hang up now. I may not need sleep, but you certainly still need yours.”

“Try sleeping with the lights on.” He suggested. “It will help.”

“I’ll do that.” She promised and just the sound of her smile made him grin in return. “Sleep well.”

“You too.”

“Jack?” She stopped him from hanging up the phone 

“Mm?”

“Thank you. For everything. I honestly don’t know what I would do without you.”

Nor I, you, he thought. Instead, he swallowed the words and chose a different phrase.

“Sweet dreams, Miss Fisher.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Jack hung up the phone, fighting that familiar gut-wrenching feeling that always appeared when they were just a bit too honest with each other.

With every passing day, their relationship became more and more convoluted, stealing more than it was allowed, but without any of the proper satisfaction of a true relationship. What he wanted, more than anything, was to curl up in bed with her, hold her tight and show her that she wasn’t alone. Instead, she trusted him just enough to call him, but not enough to let him love her. 

It was a dance that Jack had been forced to master over the past year, but he was growing tired of the steps.

OOOOO

Of course Jack couldn’t resist coming by after work to check on her the next day. 

Phryne felt sheepish for her desperate phone call the night before but his visit was the perfect opportunity to invite him to stay for that quiet night in that she owed him after gallantly rescuing her. Jack had flushed a beautiful shade of pink at her heroic praise and before he could refute her, Mr. Butler was already pouring him a glass of wine and escorting him into the dining room. 

Bless the man who knew she would not take no for an answer.

However, now the night was nearly over, their nightcap was halfway through and she was running out of reasons to keep him in her parlor. 

“Are you getting tired, Miss Fisher?” Jack spoke and she realized he was watching her closely enough to notice her quiet behavior.

“Not tired, Jack. Just distracted.” She smiled sadly.

“Oh?”

“I’m trying to think of reasons for you to stay once your drink is gone.” She confessed and he smiled. 

“You have been trapped here for a few days now. Even with staff and visitors, it must be a herculean task for you.” He commented dryly.

“No, Jack.” She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I’m trying to come up with excuses to keep  _ you _ here.” She emphasized. “But after months of nightcaps, draughts, music, and books, I’m running out of polite conversation.” She said honestly. 

“Miss Fisher…” 

“Why won’t you be with me?” She asked him, not wanting to play games anymore. “You’re not married any longer and I got the impression that that was merely an excuse in the first place. Do you need more time?” She paused. “Should I be waiting? Should I give up hope? Because every time you look at me, I feel my pulse race and my heart flutter, and damn it, Jack. I may be stubborn but even I can only hold on for so long before I...”

He was kissing her. 

The thought registered only briefly before she melted into his embrace. 

“I need monogamy.” He murmured, pulling away only enough to look into her eyes. “It’s only one condition, but it…”

“Yes.” She agreed. He looked taken aback at how quickly she had answered so she repeated herself. “Yes, Jack. I want to be with you. If that’s your condition, then I will gladly take it, just keep kissing me.” 

“You’re injured.” He remembered too late. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Then we had better sit down.” She smiled as she pushed him back down onto the chaise and climbed onto his lap. 

OOOOO

His stomach grumbled loudly and Jack grinned at his own childish behavior. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt like this: exhausted, starving, and sore in places he had forgotten existed, but never happier.

“Good weekend, Sir?” Collins asked as he handed him a stack of reports.

“Very good, and yourself?”

“Yes, Sir.” He nodded, but he looked hesitant to leave. 

“What is it, Collins?” Jack asked, wondering why the young man was still standing in front of him.

“You have a little…” Hugh pointed to his own neck. Jack reached up and touched behind his ear, feeling the remnants of Phryne’s lipstick from their goodbye this morning.

“Oh. Right. Thank you, Collins.” He had to fight hard not to react as he reached for his handkerchief. 

“You’re welcome.” He flushed awkwardly as he left the office.

Jack wiped his skin clean with the soft cloth, the sensation still rough compared to the feeling of her satin lips that morning as he sat on the corner of her bed, trying in vain to tie his tie as she had whispered distractions in his ear. He had been no match for her temptations, and had to forego breakfast and his usual morning paper just to make it to work on time.

But God, it had been worth it.

He looked down at the white cloth, stained with just a touch of red and remembered her scarf, lying in the grass. The chasm of emotions between then and now seemed too vast to leap in such a short amount of time. 

“Collins!” 

“Yes, sir?” Hugh stood at the ready in his doorway. 

“Can you get Miss Williams on the phone? I have a case for her.” Jack said as he shuffled the reports on his desk, looking for the receipt he needed.

“A case, sir?” Collins frowned.

“Yes, it would seem the Victoria Police Force owes Miss Fisher a new silk scarf for her troubles undercover. And unless  _ you _ know of somewhere…”

“Right.” Collins smiled. “I’m sure she would be delighted to assist.” Hugh said as he took the receipt from him. 

“As it’s official police business, she’ll need an escort. I hope you don’t mind the task.” Jack added, wanting Collins to understand him fully.

“No, sir.” Hugh beamed. “Thank you, sir.” 

“That will be all, Collins.” Jack said, dismissing the Constable with a knowing smirk. 


End file.
